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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568171">Crack in the Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberneticFire/pseuds/CyberneticFire'>CyberneticFire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Once Burned Twice Shy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Astraphobia, Child Ghirahim, Demise is Not a Good Master, Demise is a sick fuck, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fi isn't in this fic but that seemed important to tag, Gen, Ghirahim Needs A Hug, Ghirahim Whump, Ghirahim and Fi are siblings, Ghirahim is younger and still more naive/optimistic because of it, Hylia Created Ghirahim, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pre-Canon, Sword Siblings, Teenage Ghirahim, Whump, but Demise is fixing that real quick don't worry, technically??? He's older than in the first one- maybe more like</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:28:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberneticFire/pseuds/CyberneticFire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghirahim has displeased his master yet again, leading to his current situation. He never did like the rain very much.</p><p>or</p><p>Ghirahim is a being made of metal; metal and lightning don't mix. Astraphobia is hard to deal with alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Demise &amp; Ghirahim (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Once Burned Twice Shy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crack in the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Second Zelda fic for the win! Be wary of the themes and the tags and stay safe please! I hope you enjoy! ^w^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky was a swirling mess of red and black. The red-tint that made up most of the Demon King's domain, and the hellish landscapes that mirrored the world parallel, were simply a norm. The black, however, was not. The black was made up of rolling, rumbling clouds that darkened with every passing second and sent a shiver down Ghirahim's spine. It was harder to hear the rumbling with his fist pounding against the door.</p><p>"Master? Please let me in! I beg your forgiveness for whatever- for what I did! I'm sorry-" a crack tore through the air, ripping a yelp from the spirit as he whirled around, slamming his back against the door. Oh Hylia this couldn't be happening. He couldn't stay out here. The tingle of electricity ran along every bit of his exposed metallic skin no matter how he shifted his mantle, tugging the fabric up and over his mouth. His expression was nothing short of horrified, wide eyes fixed on the thickening clouds that threatened to burst open and overflow with water and<em> light</em>.</p><p>"Master I've learned my lesson-" Demise's harsh voice rattled around Ghirahim's head: words of <em>'</em><em>you will learn' </em>and <em>'</em><em>a </em><em>punishment fitting a disobedient whelp like you' </em>that dried his throat and tore at his lungs because he <em> never </em> meant to disobey -- his sole purpose, his reason for <em> existing </em> was to serve the one behind this door and he couldn't even do <em> that </em> right. <em> That </em>was why he was out here. Demise had told him so.</p><p>Logically, he knew he should find cover. He couldn't teleport -- Master had told him not to -- and Ghirahim wouldn't --<em> couldn't </em> -- disobey. The spirit didn't want to be caught in the open with a storm like this, because storms meant lightning, and lightning meant unimaginable <em> pain, </em> but try as he might, it was hard to convince himself to <em> move </em> away from the door. Maybe Master would let him in. Accept his apology. Keep him sheltered from <em> the one thing </em> that could terrify him so much. Another crack tore open the sky, shook the ground, and Ghirahim sunk his teeth into the fabric to muffle a scream. Demise wasn't letting him in.</p><p>"I'm <em> sorry-!"</em> The apology died on his tongue. What else could he say? Goddesses knew Demise <em> loathed </em> senseless rambling! Hated begging unless he asked for it. It was impossible to tell if he was even <em> listening</em>. Ghirahim had to leave. Master wasn't letting him in and he <em> certainly </em> didn't deserve to be anyway. That still didn't stop the spirit's hands from trembling, the white-knuckled grip on his scarf doing little to soothe his anxieties as he stepped away from the door.</p><p>The rain poured down in torrents. Ghirahim could only spare a half-hearted thought about his hair and clothes, sopping wet and ruined and soaking him through and through, before he broke into a sprint, eyes darting frantically around for <em> anything </em> that could count as shelter. He just had to wait out the storm -- his throat closed up at the charge in the air -- and he could do that just about anywhere that wasn't exposed to the sky.</p><p>There was a tree. It was black and old and looked like it might fall over at any moment, but it also had a hollow that just might fit him. He would just have to make do…</p><p>"It'll pass, in a few hours, they always pass-" was the muttered mantra between gasps that felt like taking in shards of glass instead of air. The rhythmic pounding of his feet against the ground spurred him on, he was <em> so close </em> to being safe-</p><p>The clouds split open. This time he <em> felt </em> the white hot light, the scorching heat searing into his back as he was sent sprawling. The blackened mark marred the earth behind him -- <em> he hadn't been struck </em>-- but still his head was spinning; Ghirahim barely had time to curl up and slam his hands over his already ringing ears before the thunder shook the earth. This time he didn't choke back the fearful wail -- it's not like Master was going to hear. That or the wrenching sobs that soon followed, shaking him so hard he didn't think he'd be able to get his hands beneath himself let alone breathe properly ever again. </p><p>Colors blurred together in wavering vision as the spirit scrambled on all fours to the tree. Crawling in head first, the mud squelched cold and unwelcoming between his fingers, caking his outfit and his poor scarf, as he tripped in as far from the entry as he could manage.</p><p>"I-I'm safe I'm- Master will c-come find me after he- he won't leave me-" the words were forced from his throat, though they meant <em>nothing</em>, were hardly a comfort with his chest so tight and filled with needles. The sobs escaped against his will now in a pathetic display, tearing themselves from his shuddering chest only to be drowned out by the surrounding storm.</p><p>Burying his face in his scarf muffled the noise and helped a little. Burying his claws in his <em> filthy </em> mud-caked hair helped less but this was the best way to protect his head and if he tugged hard enough he might just forget the situation he was in. Then again, as another streak of lightning arched through the sky, followed by it's world-shattering <em> boom </em> Ghirahim let the tears fall freely, soaking his scarf. </p><p>Oh sure, it was pathetic, but there was no one around to see, so what should he care? He was aware only of the incessant trembling, the rattling breaths, and this persistent ache in his core. This would all be over soon and then he would do <em> anything </em> for his Master to avoid this fate again. The spirit never was quite sure of what he <em> did </em> to instigate these punishments, but he surely deserved them. If only he could be colder, crueler, quieter as Demise wanted. Less vain, have less of an attitude, less <em> personality </em>for goddess's sake if that's what it took.</p><p>Maybe if he could've been more like <em>her...</em></p><p><em> No. </em> Thoughts about <em> her </em> only sent a different type of pain through his core. They made his chest ache and he had to grit his teeth to avoid any unwarranted noises of distress. Had to just focus on surviving this and appeasing his master and everything would be okay again. Maybe Demise would even give him an ounce of extra attention when he realized his sword spirit wasn't entirely useless as a servant. Maybe...</p><p>Flashes of lightning followed quickly by bellowing thunder forced him to flinch <em> every time </em> and hide further in his scarf as though <em> that </em> would protect him from the chaos outside. Tucking his knees to his chest, the spirit let out a ragged breath. It was really hard to think like this...Demise's disappointment was near tangible through their bond so Ghirahim just sucked in another fortified breath and subjected himself to waiting. He could wait. He was used to waiting. It was only a few hours…</p><p>.</p><p>Ghirahim wasn't sure when he'd lapsed into less of a conscious state of mind, but blinking back to awareness had hit him with multiple things. First and foremost: his body ached like he'd been kicked repeatedly by Din. <em> Ow. </em> Next he noted that it was <em> blessedly </em> silent out. His clothes -- his <em> scarf </em>-- were all but ruined, covered in mud, torn at the edges, and stiff from drying with the muddied water. His hair was disheveled and he allowed himself a soft groan over his ruined visage before he forced himself to crawl back out of his little sanctuary.</p><p>There was red again -- thank the <em> goddesses </em> -- and not a sliver of black in the sky. A little to his right, though, there was a flash of the dark color that made him flinch before realization could set in. <em> Oh. </em> It...was Demise. A warmth seeped into his core, a small smile tugging unconsciously at the corner of his mouth as he shifted his gaze up to his Master's face. Almost immediately it was replaced with an icy pit in his stomach and the smile quickly faded. The swirl of emotions that fought for dominance around Master were <em> confusing </em> but right now, a mixture of relief and fear seemed appropriate.</p><p>Ghirahim tried not to move or hunker down lower as Demise's gaze peeled away any defenses he might've had and offered <em> nothing </em> in the way of his thoughts. At least the spirit was already <em> kneeling;</em> he didn't think he could look anymore compliant than he did right now, but then again, he's been proven wrong before. Despite the fear, the lingering tremors running through him -- <em> cold, he was cold, that was it </em> -- the sound of Demise's voice still <em> elated </em> him the moment it reached his ears.</p><p>"Have you learned your lesson?" The rumble was low and menacing, and his eyes were narrowed in that scrutinizing way that meant he didn't really care about the answer but Ghirahim was too relieved that he was being addressed to notice.</p><p><em>"Yes</em>, I have, Master." Ghirahim ducked his head. Oh how he wanted to say more, to ramble about how happy he was that Demise came to get him, but he kept his mouth shut. Demise didn't like rambling. The spirit simply quivered in anticipation, trying not to feel small in the shadow that loomed over him before he got his answer.</p><p>"Good. Get up and follow. I have work to do so clean up and make yourself presentable. My sword shouldn't be so undignified." And without so much as a backwards glance, he was turning and making his way back to the palace.</p><p>Ghirahim flinched like he'd been slapped at that last comment, though it was quickly overshadowed by the pressure in his chest alleviating. Master wasn't upset anymore! His heart soared as he clambered to his feet to catch up with the much larger demon's stride, remaining a few steps behind him and hiding a tentative smile in his scarf. Things were...okay now. Demise wasn't upset with him. And Ghirahim would make sure his Master never had to...lock him out like that ever again. He would get better at this for him. He would be better.</p><p>And despite how much he missed...<em> her </em> sometimes, he found that he didn't want her here. He could be good for his Master. She would be happier where she was, with her Goddess. Swallowing thickly at the thought, he kept his gaze at Demise's back. She shouldn't have to change for someone else...and Ghirahim could be happy with Demise. He could be <em> useful </em> and that's all he needed. <em> She </em> still had so much to learn and see and analyze and it brought a bitter smirk to his face. Despite everything, he still wanted that for her. She shouldn't be denied the beauty of the Surface.</p><p>Ghirahim was exactly where he needed to be. He would show Hylia. He was going to do more than survive -- he was going to <em> flourish</em>.</p>
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